


Growth Spurt

by DollopheadedMerlin



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, Humor, I'm Sorry, i dont even know, this just sort of happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-12 15:03:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4483919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DollopheadedMerlin/pseuds/DollopheadedMerlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin goes missing and, when he is found, much has changed.<br/>(I'm really not sure what this is?!? I don't know what I was thinking when I wrote this . . . I didn't even have a plan and this all just sort of came out. Why? I don't know. I'm as confused as you are . . .)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Waking to an aching body, Merlin opened his eyes. He ogled the ceiling to his bedroom with wide eyed confusion. It took him a moment, his mind muddled and lost, but he eventually became aware of the sound of his own breath. He was gasping, choking for breath that wouldn't come. It felt as though his ribs were curling around his lungs and crushing them. Then, with horror, he remembered that that was exactly what was happening to him.

_It had taken Arthur an entire fortnight to track down his servant. It was one of the few occasions when Arthur was thankful for his father's illness. He was able to play off his search for a commoner as an extended hunting trip with the king none the wiser. Uther would have never permitted such a large party of men to waste time on something so inconsequential to himself for such a long time had he been more aware._

_The tracks were difficult to follow. All kinds of huntsmen and trackers were amongst Arthur's knights, and yet none of them were sure as to where Merlin was taken from._

_The foolish young boy had been out picking herbs for Gaius (and he truly was picking herbs on this one occasion) and his mentor became quite concerned when he had not returned that night. Arthur had shrugged it off, it being a rather common occurrence for his servant to wonder off for a few days. However, as the days dragged on, it became apparent that something out of the ordinary must have happened. So, he banded together the best of his knights and set out._

_To say that they were surprised at the state he was in when they found him would be an understatement._

_At long last, their tracking and guessing led them to the Mountains of Andor, northwest of Camelot. They scoured the rocky terrain for days before they had found him. It was his captor that led them to his whereabouts, the witch having been spotted picking fruits from a plumb tree that resided in one of the few grassy areas amongst the cliffs and caves._

_She vanished before they could challenge her, leaving them with no tell of where Merlin might be. However, it was easy to guess where she had been hiding out as there was a cavern close by, within easy living distance of the plumb tree._

_They all hiked their way to it, all eager to find their missing friend. And there he was, in the back of the cave, curled up in a crevice too small and shrouded by frail, moldy blankets._

Gaius burst into the room with a surprising vigor for a man his age. He quickly helped Merlin into a sitting position to relieve some of the weight from his chest and instructed him on how to breathe.

After he was somewhat settled, Gaius coaxed a potion down Merlin's throat for the pain that seemed to never leave him.

According to the physician, Merlin's bones had grown far too quickly over the days he had been missing. Therefore, his ribcage had grown longer but not wider, encasing his lungs in a tight prison.

The remedy was simple; break his ribs so that they could heal again with wider span. But the process was slow and painful and Merlin's body was alive with pain already without the added stress. But Gaius said it was necessary and he was almost through with it. Just a few more days and he promised that his ribs would have settled.

He sighed as Gaius looked him over, eyes going distant as he stared down at his feet, hanging over the far edge of the bed.

_Arthur had been too stunned to move. All they could see of Merlin was his face and a long, bare arm that held the blankets close. He was shaking, cold and tired beneath the tethered sheets, and his eyes were scrunched up in pain. His skin seemed to glow against the torchlight, he was so pale, and his cheeks were sunken in, bones jutting out in all directions. He looked deformed. He looked changed._

_It was Lancelot who took the brave step forwards and pulled the blankets down to Merlin's waist. Arthur could hear some of his knights stifle a gag at the sight. Merlin had grown. His torso was long and thin, ribs poking through and clearly visible through his greyish skin. He watched as they grotesquely moved in and out with each ragged, struggling breath, mocking the appearance of a fish's gills._

_A shiver rocked his frame after the sheets had been removed and he groaned as he turned into the cave, pressing his face against the course wall, his face pinching in pain. The sound startled Arthur out of his shock and he pushed himself forwards to put a hesitant hand on Merlin's shoulder._

_The boy's back arched against the warm touch of Arthur's hand. He flinched at first, but soon eased into the heat, his bony shoulder pressing into gratefully. His face went lax and he sighed contently._

_"Merlin," Arthur said warily, not knowing what to expect._

_Merlin's pale eyes opened slowly and he looked along the wall in front of him._

_"Merlin," Arthur said again, pleading that the boy was not blind or mad._

_To his relief, Merlin turned his head and faced him. His eyes went wide at the sight of Arthur and his breath caught in his throat. He began to breathe panicked breaths, his ribs prodding out with each frantic intake._

_"Merlin! Merlin, it's alright!" Arthur assured, grabbing Merlin's other shoulder and turning him to face him. "Look at me! We're going to get you out of here. We're going to get you to Gaius."_

_His breathing calmed a bit and he nodded numbly. He pulled the blankets around his waist, clutching them there and attempting to compose himself. Lancelot stepped forwards and took one of the blankets from him before draping it about his shoulders and letting Merlin's hand hold it in place like a coat. Then he aided Merlin in tying another about his hips. It was frightening how easily the fabric held its place, strung about the jagged bones that kept it up._

_Then, with the help of Arthur and the knights, Merlin stood._

Gwen came to visit and, to his delight, brought him fresh clothes, made especially for him. He thanked her, utterly grateful, but decided that he had not yet had enough of his bed and remained under the covers whilst she talked to him.

"Arthur's trying to get you a room with a larger bed, but I think it will have to specially made. Perhaps we can put two together and you can sleep on it sideways!"

Merlin smiled at her jest, skin crinkling around the eyes a bit more than they ought to at his young age.

"Gaius is working on a cure," she informed, "but he's not sure if he'll be able to figure this all out without any knowledge of what exactly the witch did to you. Percival is still leading some knights on a search but they haven't found anything yet. All of her belongings seem to have vanished with her death."

"Something tells me they won't be found," Merlin sighed, tugging at his blankets in an attempt to make them cover his body.

_Merlin swayed where he stood, looking down at the knights with round, puzzled eyes._

_Arthur stared back up at him, expression of shock and momentarily frozen in awe. Merlin towered above them. He was taller than any man Arthur had ever seen. He reached heights beyond even Percival's reach. He reckoned he ought to be at nine feet tall. And yet, despite his leverage, he still looked small, what with how thin he was. His stomach was flat and slender, spine mapped out on his back. His skin stretched across his bones like a deformed canvas. His limbs were wiry and it was a miracle that he could even stand, though his legs were shaking violently under the weight._

_He looked confused, as if not even he had known how large he was. His bewildered gaze remained as they led him out of the dark, squinting against the sun he hadn't seen for so long a time._

When Gwen left, Merlin climbed out of bed and slipped into his new attire. He was thankful that they fit, having become far too acquainted with wearing nothing but his small clothes. He liked the warmth they offered, the way they felt more permanent than the blankets that were too small.

He sat back down on his bed, knees in the air due to his long legs. He pursed his lips as he noticed that he was still shoeless, his feet having grown a deal as well. He put his hands on his knees and eyed how long his fingers were and how stretched out his palm appeared. Like the rest of him, it was long but thin. Nothing was right with him. He was too tall and not nearly as thick as he should be. Gaius prescribed almost too much food for his small stomach to take. He was always met with great meals and massive dishes.

Arthur interrupted his musings, nervously edging into the room.

"Arthur?" Merlin questioned, acknowledging that he knew that he was there.

"Merlin," Arthur addressed. "How are you feeling?"

Merlin scoffed. "What? Are you  _worried_ about me?"

Arthur grinned. "Heavens no! I just need to be sure that you'll be returning to work soon!"

Merlin's smile fell at that. "Gaius isn't sure if there's a cure," he mumbled, hunching over his bony legs.

"Have you remembered anything?" Arthur questioned hesitantly.

Merlin sighed. "Yes, but it wasn't anything of use, I don't think."

_He had only paused for a moment to rest his weary legs when a gnarly hand wrapped itself about his mouth and pulled him into someone's chest._

_A voice hushed his muffled protest and a woman's face entered his vision. "You're perfect," she cooed, holding onto him tighter. "You should work. Yes, you should be fine."_

_He watched as her eyes burned gold before he blacked out and went limp in her arms._

Gaius checked in on the boys and, after some pleading, permitted that Merlin would be allowed to leave his rooms, so long as they were careful.

It was the first time Merlin had left Gaius's chambers and a wave of different emotions pushed him over as the day went on. He was relieved when he stepped into the corridor and he could stand up straight without his head bumping into the ceiling. He stretched and his joints cracked,  _all of them._ He suddenly became self-conscious and eyed every passage way they passed, hoping that no one would have to see him.

They went to Arthur's chambers, the prince having offered that they have breakfast together. After all, Merlin had been eating like royalty ever since he was brought back from the mountains.

Merlin sat on the floor, legs crossed and toes sticking out from under them. He ate as much as Arthur did, a plate piled high with meats and cheeses. Arthur even insisted that he eat his own leftovers.

"Gaius said you were to eat as much as possible," Arthur argued, pushing his plate towards the end of the table, "and it'll go to waste if you don't eat it."

"I  _have_ eaten as much as possible!" Merlin countered. "I feel like my stomach's about to burst!"

"Well you don't  _look_ like it! And, until you do, you are to eat all that you are given." He smiled triumphantly as Merlin reluctantly took the food. Arthur knew that Merlin's stomach had apparently been stretched along with the rest of him. Gaius had said that the boy would feel full far sooner than he had actually eaten all that he could. Knowing this, he made Merlin eat, regardless of how much he would whine about stomachaches later.

When they left for a walk in the woods, requested by Merlin because  _oh, it felt good to stretch,_ it was later in the day. Therefore, there were far more people about.

Merlin's kept his eyes downcast as the maids and servants gawked at him, watching in gruesome fascination as he ducked under archways and crouched beneath low ceilings.

Unfortunately, to get to the woods, they would have to walk through the lower town.

All eyes were either on him or kept off of him with every fiber of the owner's being. He was a sight difficult not to look at. It wasn't every day that you saw a nine foot man strolling through your neighborhood. Arthur did what he could to pretend that all was normal, but, when your friend was taller than some of the houses, it was hard not to notice.

Rumors had already stirred the castle when Merlin was first brought home, barely conscious and entirely stunned by his own transformation. They had only warped since then.

_It had taken a long while to get Merlin back to Camelot. No horse could carry him and he was weak on his feet. Eventually, some of the knights were able to trade some skins and meat for a carriage in a village on their path whilst Arthur and Gwaine kept Merlin company in the forest. When they returned, they mounted a few horses to the wagon and settled Merlin inside, supplying him with nearly every blanket they had to keep him warm and dignified._

_When they finally breached the city walls, all eyes were on them, rumors being born on the lips of prying townsfolk. Though Merlin was fairly well covered, it was no secret that some tragic mutilation had befallen him._

_Whispered words spread throughout the castle, people claiming that Merlin had all sorts of disfigurements. One rather popular story was that he'd been taken away by a mad man and put in a stretcher. Another tale told of wendigos keeping him captive and forcefully feeding him human flesh until he became as deformed and decrepit as they were. There were all kinds of ridiculous notions, people saying that he'd grown a tale, scales, wings, claws, anything to fuel the people's imagination._

_It irked Arthur, and he hoped that it would all die out by the time Merlin had recuperated._

"He's alive?"

"I could have sworn it was a body they brought back!"

"So he  _was_ put in a stretcher!"

"Gods! He's ginormous!"

"What is that thing?"

 _"That's_ the prince's servant?"

"It's not even human."

The voices brushed past Merlin's ears and he wondered humorlessly if they thought he was up too high to hear them. He let out a thankful sigh as they reached the seclusion of the forest and left behind the telltales of what had happened to him.

They walked on a little while longer in silence. Merlin looked down at Arthur, who was only about as tall as his elbow, wondering what he was thinking.

Eventually, they settled in a small clearing. Arthur made sure that Merlin was alright being left alone before he left to hunt for lunch (adding that Merlin would only terrify the game, of course).

That left Merlin, alone in a clearing, slumped against a tree and feeling far more tired than he thought he ought to. He supposed it had something to do with how wiry he had become. His muscles were already sore after such a short walk in comparison to some far longer treks he'd made in the past.

_He woke up in the cave, alone and shackled to a wall. He tried to break free using magic but, like Morgause's chains, that only resulted in his bindings tightening around his wrists._

_An unnerving coo echoed through the dark tunnel before a light appeared, followed by an absolutely giddy looking witch, practically hoping over to where Merlin was shackled._

_"You're awake!" she cheered. "Good! I can't wait!"_

_Merlin eyed her skeptically._

_"Don't worry. I'm not going to harm you," she promised, hobbling over, her light hair falling over her eyes. She was old but agile, fit for her age. She smiled a toothy grin and her eyes lit up. "I was beginning to think that I'd never find anyone who would work!"_

_"Work for what?" Merlin asked, letting his irritation be known through his voice._

_"All the other people never worked," she tutted. "Most of them had no effect. Some of the ones with magic died!" She sighed, looking surprisingly remorseful. "But_ you,  _you're different! I reckon you've got enough power to make it work!"_

_Merlin's brow furrowed, becoming honest to goodness entirely confused._

_"Magic is needed of course!" she explained, though she still wasn't making much sense. "I thought all it would need was my magic, but apparently it has to be internal as well. It needs a lot of it too!"_

_"What does?" Merlin growled, becoming frustrated._

_"Oh!" she peeped, realizing that she hadn't fully clarified her intentions. "The giant's blood!"_

_Merlin's eyes widened with additional confusion at the revelation and his brow furrowed as far as it could go. "Giant's blood?"_

_"Yes!" the woman cried, practically dancing with excitement. "I've found some! It's very hard to come by, you know! Giants are extinct after all. But I will be the one to bring them back!"_

_"What?"_

_"I've found a way!" she exclaimed, conjuring a fire with her magic and brewing something that looked vile. "All I need is a potion and some giant's blood! And you! It needs you! There needs to be enough magic within the patient in order for the potion to work. The magic will force the giant's blood through your veins, as it did the others! Only the others did not have enough and the process killed them." Again, she sighed as if the death of an innocent was but a small mistake that put a damper on her joy. "But I reckon you have enough power to pull through, don't ya?"_

_Then, she did what almost seemed to be a jig as she approached him, a small vial clasped in her aged hands. "I'm afraid it tastes rather bland so . . ." she trailed off as she grasped Merlin's jaw, forcing his mouth open and dumping the foul liquid down his throat._

Merlin sputtered awake, gasping and shaking, the memory of the mad woman running through his mind. His blurred vision could barely make out the image of Arthur before him and, as it cleared, it became certain that the prince was concerned.

"You alright?" Arthur asked after Merlin seemed to have calmed down.

Numbly, Merlin nodded and let go of the grass that he had unknowingly clutched onto in his dreams.

"Did you remember something?" Arthur asked hesitantly, sitting down next to Merlin against the protruding root of the tree.

Merlin nodded, looking down at his legs, vaguely noticing that his were about a third larger than Arthur's, played out in the grass as they were.

"Well," Arthur sighed, throwing two dead rabbits onto the boy's lap, "these aren't going to cook themselves."

Merlin rolled his eyes as he got up and built a fire.

As he set the rabbits out to cook, he could feel the effects of Gaius's pain medicine wearing off, his bones beginning to ache. He groaned as he stood back up, standing taller than a few of the younger trees. Arthur looked up at him, poorly masked concern evident on his face.

After stretching, Merlin sat back down to tend to the fire, only his arm shook slightly. He tried to ignore the throb of his muscles and the trebling of his bones but it was difficult not to notice. With a sense of dread, he realized that he had not taken any of Gaius's medicine with him and he would have to walk back in this state.

It was his chest that was the worst. His ribs were still recovering from being broken and it was still excruciating to take a breath too deep. Gaius said that it was only temporary, explaining that his lungs would become more expandable over time once his ribcage was big enough for them, but, for now, they were still tight and restrained against heavy breathing.

"Done," Merlin mumbled as he took the rabbits off of the fire. He dished out the food but left his serving on the ground, opting rather to lie down and extend himself some more.

"You alright, Merlin?" Arthur asked after taking a few bites of his food.

Merlin huffed and closed his eyes, feeling utterly exhausted.

"We can head back," Arthur suggested, trying to sound nonchalant.

Merlin didn't answer except to breath slowly through his nose, trying to ease the constricting pain in his chest.

_It went on for days. The woman would return from picking plumbs or hunting game and would immediately administer another dose of the revolting giant's blood potion. Merlin couldn't be sure as to what a giant was, but he figured it was some large beast, given the name. He could feel his body changing over time, but, after the first week of it, he could hardly tell exactly what was happening to him. All he knew was that the potion caused him pain, ever present, drawn out pain._

_He barely noticed when the shackles were removed. He wondered if the witch knew how weak he was or if it truly was because, "you've grown far too large for these now, I'm afraid."_

_The witch continued to speak to him as if he were willing to go through with the transformation. She talked as if he were her child and it churned his stomach._

_One day, Merlin was feeling incredibly terrible, his lungs pressing against his ribs whenever he tried to take a deep breath, and he hated that purplish potion more than ever. So, when the witch made to give it to him, he turned his head into the wall, clamping his mouth shut._

_"Oh, come now!" she sighed. "We're nearly halfway done! When we're finished you'll be twenty feet tall!"_

_Merlin groaned and buried his face even further into his crevice, not wanting to even look at the witch or her stupid potion. But the woman would have none of it. Like a parent trying to feed her child vegetables, she slid her hand under Merlin's cheek and turned his face around._

_He flinched, pushing away from her and trying to dig his face back into the wall. She began to holler and scold him as if he had broken a house rule. He simply held out his hands and tried to keep her at bay, but she kept coming, swatting his feeble arms with little effort._

_But Merlin kept kicking and growling, trying and failing to get away. Eventually, the witch won, gripping his jaw in her weathered hands and forcing the thick, foul liquid down his throat._

_He gagged. His heart was pounding and his breath came short. His body shook and jittered and his eyes grew wide as he found breath escaping him._

_The witch panicked, ringing out her impossibly long hair and turning her head on a swivel as if she could find something to stop her giant's hyperventilating. Upon giving up hope, she left the cave, leaving Merlin alone to suffer._

Arthur's head shot up when he heard Merlin gasp. Across the clearing he could see the boy, chest bumping up and down with each quick intake of breath that never seemed to be enough.

In an instant, Arthur was beside him, tapping his face until his eyes fluttered open. Merlin seemed to realize what was happening to him and his eyes went wide. He clawed at the ground and choked on air, willing his breathing to go back to normal.

He needed to sit up. He tilted his head up and leaned forwards but Arthur put a hand on his shoulder, keeping him down. Merlin panicked, trying and failing to push against Arthur's weight as the prince tried to assure him that everything would be alright. Little did he know that he was one of the obstacles keeping Merlin from breathing.

In a fit of fear, Merlin stuck out his arm and swiped Arthur away, sending him tumbling across the grass. Then, Merlin shot upright and took in a large gulp of air that made his chest sting.

Realization seemed to dawn on Arthur's face as he looked up to see Merlin breathing easier. Guilt took over his features and he became resigned, not wanting to cause any more harm.

Merlin tried to make Arthur known to the fact that he held no fault with him. How was he to know what to do when a giant of a man was fussing for breath on the ground? Merlin had to lean on the trees as they walked back, his pains getting the better of him. Eventually he found a felled tree and broke it in half, using the sturdier bit of it as a sort of cane to put his weight on.

Never had Merlin wanted to disappear more than he did when they arrived back in the lower town. Not only was he in pain, but he was at the peak of insecurity. He hunched over his cane, looking like knobby old man the size of a house.

Arthur led him through the castle. He leaned heavily on the walls, having abandoned his tree outside, and staggered with every step. Finally, Arthur reached his destination, but it was not Gaius's chambers.

"Arthur," Merlin sighed, feeling fit to fall apart.

The prince shushed him and, to Merlin's surprise, did not open the door to his chambers, but the one next to it.

Merlin ducked through the doorframe and stood up inside. Like Arthur's chambers, the room had a ceiling high enough that he could stand, but only just, his hair tickling against the stones above. In the far corner of the room there was a bed, larger than Merlin had ever seen before. It stretched across the entire wall, measuring at ten feet, at least!

In the center of the room, there was a table and beside it was an odd looking chair with extremely short legs. Arthur noticed Merlin staring at it and stepped forwards to explain.

"This was the best we could do," he said, leaning on the back of it. "We figured that if we accommodated the height of the table to fit your knees, then the chair would have been too tall and your head would bump the ceiling." He laughed nervously, and then continued. "We made the table long so that your legs would fit under it." He nodded to a few extra, ordinary chairs that were stationed about the table. "Those are for guests, which is another reason why we left the table at its normal height."

Arthur bit his lip as he watched Merlin gaze about the room. His eyes landed on the fireplace, where a large skin rug was splayed out, looking comfortably warm. Already the fire was blazing.

Then he looked back to Arthur. These chambers were as big as his own and yet he was offering them up to a peasant. He smiled down at him and walked passed towards the bed, where he sat down and sunk into the soft fabrics.

There was a long silence in which Arthur looked incredibly awkward as Merlin marveled at the room. "Thank you," he finally said, closing his eyes and letting the comfort of the room ease his aches a bit.

Arthur smiled, knowing that there was great chance of Merlin remaining as he was forever.

Merlin opened his eyes and looked apologetically towards Arthur. "Could you get Gaius?" he asked, voice tired.

Arthur's eyes widened. "Of course!" He left and returned with the physician moments later.

Gaius asked Arthur for some privacy, after praising the man for his efforts in making Merlin comfortable, and was left alone with his patient.

"I remembered a lot more," Merlin told him as he gulped down the pain draught, greedy for it despite its foul taste.

Merlin proceeded to relay the information Gaius needed to assess the situation, cringing and oddly twitching at some of the memories. When he finished, Gaius sat back in one of the spare chairs, eyebrow raised in thought.

"Giant's blood?" he question, eyebrow climbing even higher.

"What are they, Gaius?" Merlin asked. "The giants, I mean."

Gaius huffed. "Well I would have thought that would be obvious! Giants were ancient beings that once lived in the mountains. They were towering men, lived in deep caves, only coming out for food. Come to think of it, this might explain some of your fatigue, Merlin. Giants tend to sleep for great amounts of time, only waking when hungry or angered.

"They died out many years ago. Why this woman would want to bring them back, I cannot fathom. They were utterly useless creatures, if I am honest. They had a fascination for shiny things, would keep them hidden in their caves. Often men would try to steal away with their treasures, causing the giant to become enraged and attack. They were strong beings but not very smart. That, I believe, led to their downfall."

"Why were they killed?" Merlin questioned curiously. "Why did the people not just leave them be?"

Gaius sighed. "This was before my time, Merlin. I cannot be sure. However, there is some tell of giants stealing crop and livestock. As I said, they were not very intelligent. When they were hungry, they would often just wonder into villages and take the first thing they saw. People lost food and wealth because of them."

Merlin seemed to contemplate this. Then, hesitantly, he said, "Is there a cure?"

Gaius shook his head. "I don't know. I've never heard of someone ever doing what this woman tried to achieve. You may very well remain as a half giant forever."

As it turned out, there was no cure. Hours and hours of research on everyone's part (even Arthur's) led to numerous dead ends. The witch was mad and the treatment she had been using could have very well killed Merlin had she continued on with it as it had her other patients. On the other hand, Gaius mused, it might have worked, resulting in an all powerful twenty to thirty foot warlock!

Merlin's lungs healed with relative success, though he had to be careful on hot summer days when he was more prone to having trouble. Arthur was informed about the giant's blood and accepted his servant's fate wholeheartedly, even if he knew the coming months would be difficult.

He fattened up, not as much as Gaius would have like, but enough that he wasn't a skeletal map anymore. Gwen helped him make new boots and more clothes. He continued to be Arthur's servant, even accompanying him on hunts and quests.

It was easy to say that he was intimidating. Any mortal who challenged Arthur was met with a lumbering Merlin giving them a death glare. And no one wanted to be on the receiving end of Merlin's anger. His temper became quite short, Gaius attributing this to the effects of the witch's potion. In a fit of anger, when a sorcerer approached them in the woods and was rambling on about how unworthy Arthur was of becoming king, a red faced Merlin swatted the man, throwing him against a tree and knocking his brains about in his head.

Arthur came to like his pet giant, not that he actually saw Merlin as a pet. He often lightheartedly teased Merlin about his height or his strength. Sometimes he would even poke fun at how skinny he still was. And, if Arthur caught Merlin staring at his newly polished sword with awe and a hint of want, he let the moment pass without comment.

Gwen did, however, catch Merlin with a chest full of small shiny trinkets, mostly loose buttons and bent spoons. She giggled at him and he blushed tremendously before she assured him that it wasn't his fault and that he couldn't help it.

There were days when Merlin had trouble waking up, especially in the winter when the solid walls and soft blankets shielded him from the elements. Gaius would sometimes prescribe a day in bed or offer him a stimulant to help him get his day going.

It's needless to say that Merlin became Camelot's prized oddity. Even after Uther had passed and Arthur became king, people were still gawking at him in the streets. But he was used to it now and smiled back at them with his usual gleam.

Luckily for him, the potion didn't falter Merlin's intelligence (not that Arthur wouldn't claim that it did whenever Merlin displayed an act of stupidity). He continued to help Gaius when he was needed, though hobbling around in a room as small as his did not always favor good fortune. He also continued to discreetly advise Arthur. That is, until his secret was out.

Arthur took it surprisingly well, possibly due to the fact that Merlin was already a half giant so adding another surprise to the list was only a bit numbing at the most. He was angry, of course, but the hateful feelings soon faded as he became known to Merlin's sacrifices.

It had been during a scuffle with Morgana. She had, like everyone else, gawked at Merlin's condition and, whilst she was distracted, he kicked her across the woods. That did not stop her, however, being a high priestess as she was, and she retaliated with a shriek, sending both him and Arthur flying back and tumbling down a gully.

Merlin had awoken first, having been large enough to plow through most of the obstacles that met him in his fall, landing with a thud on the ground below. His eyes darted around in search of Arthur, but he was quickly distracted by something shining in the distance.

It was the dark shimmering scales of a serket.

Merlin bounded up to them and began batting them away with the backs of his hands. He furiously swatted them away from the gully, where he knew Arthur would be lying somewhere. It wasn't until he heard a soft groan that he realized one had slipped past him.

The half giant spun to see Arthur on his hands and knees, having just recovered from his fall. Merlin smiled, seeing that Arthur was alright, but his grin quickly faded as he spotted one of the serkets crawling up to his king.

"Arthur!" he cried.

Arthur's head shot up to look at Merlin just as the serket's stinger plunged into his back. The king grunted and stumbled, falling to the ground once more.

"No!" Merlin screamed, sending the beasts flying in all directions with the magic that flashed in his eyes. He ran over to Arthur and cradled him in his arms before climbing out of the gully, racing Arthur to safety.

He stopped in a clearing, lying Arthur down gently, built a fire, and waited. When Arthur finally stirred, Merlin had to swallow his fears.

"What happened?" he asked groggily, looking up at Merlin with pained eyes.

"You were stung by a serket," Merlin said flatly, not meeting his eyes.

"Oh," Arthur said quietly. It was common knowledge that one could not recover from a serket sting, and he was no fool to believe that he would be an exception.

"It's alright," Merlin sniffled. "It's fine. You'll be fine. I'll fix you up."

Arthur shook his head. "No," he countered, pushing Merlin's hands away as they tried to help. "No, Merlin. There's nothing you can do. No one has ever survived a serket sting."

"You're wrong," Merlin said, face tight with the pain of the situation.

"What do you mean?" Arthur questioned, sensing the resignation behind Merlin's words.

"I have," Merlin said simply, barely above a whisper.

"What?" Arthur questioned. "No, that's impossible."

"No, no, look," Merlin mumbled, pressing Arthur's shoulders into the ground and closing his eyes. When he had been stung by the serket, he had been too weak to heal himself, but he was strong now, and had learnt more about his magic. He knew he could heal Arthur.  _"Gehælan,"_ he uttered, eyes burning gold. Arthur stared as they fade back to blue, feeling the wound close on his back and the venom leave his body in cold chill.

"You," Arthur breathed, suddenly feeling incredibly exhausted, "You have magic."

Merlin nodded, tears pricking at his eyes, as he watched Arthur fall asleep.

Merlin carried Arthur home, numb with sorrow and anticipation. He slept for two days whilst Merlin worried, pacing his room and twiddling his thumbs whenever he was allowed to visit Arthur.

Gaius tried to keep Merlin calm, assure him that all would be well, but it did nothing to battle the boy's anxiety. Standing at nine feet tall, he never felt so small. The physician often made Merlin leave when his emotions got the best of him and, though he wanted to be at Arthur's side when he woke, he was forced to stay in his chambers.

When the king did wake, he was met with Gaius's worried face. He immediately panicked, looking at Gaius wide eyed. He didn't know what to do. He kept his mouth shut and got lost in his own thoughts. He had no idea whether or not Gaius knew of Merlin's magic and, if he didn't, he wasn't sure if he even  _wanted_ to warn him. Was it even something to warn about? He was so confused that he just sat there, eyes wide and gawking at Gaius as so many did Merlin.

The old man broke the silence. "You know."

So Gaius was aware. Silently, he nodded, feeling numb all over.

Gaius took his time in explaining to Arthur that Merlin was born with magic and, as much as he initially claimed it was impossible, he accepted it. He then went on to recall when Merlin was captured by the witch, explaining why he was chosen for such a cruel experiment.

When Gaius led Arthur back to his own rooms, he was indifferent. He had not voiced his opinion on the matter at all, simply taking in what Gaius had to say. When he was settled, seated cozily in the bench by his fire, he turned to Gaius before he could leave and said, "Could you send for Merlin to come in here?"

Gaius nodded. "Of course, sire."

Merlin was shaking out of his skin when he crouched through the doorway, eyes wide and anxious. Arthur bid him to sit and he settled on the king's rug before the hearth, legs crossed in front of him. He doubled over, holding his feet in his hands and staring down at the furs beneath him.

Arthur stared at him. And it remained like that for a long time, both of them silent and unmoving. Finally, Arthur cleared his throat and leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands, propped up by his elbows on his knees. "Tell me," he said.

Merlin looked up and proceeded to recall all of his adventures since he arrived in Camelot. And Arthur listened, quietly taking in all that he could be told before passing judgment on his friend.

Because Merlin was still his friend, his giant, magical, ridiculously loyal friend.

 


	2. Tall Tales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I had to continue this because there are just too many mini!Merlin fics and not enough giant!Merlin ones. So, I wrote up a bunch of (very strange) one-shots that take place in the same universe.

**Shiny**

The hunt was going horribly and even Arthur had to agree with Merlin that returning to Camelot would be a blessing. They trudged on however, because Arthur couldn’t let the giant win so easily.

Eventually, his breath seemed to run out and the boy stopped complaining about how sore his feet were, grumbling on about how there weren’t any giant horses to ride and how inconsiderate that witch was for not making him one. He fell into a tiresome silence. But then even his footsteps faded away from beneath the rhythmic trot of hooves. Curious and a bit wary, Arthur turned in his saddle.

“Where’s Merlin?” he asked the knights upon finding that the man had vanished from the tow of the party.

The knights all looked about one another, finding no trace of their towering friend.

Gwaine scoffed. “How we managed to lose a giant is beyond me,” he laughed. “Only Merlin could slip away at nine feet tall!”

It wasn’t hard to find him though. The combined effort of his weight and his large feet made fine footprints for tracking. So, they followed them, leading the knights to a babbling brook. They _were_ just going to march on after him, but they collectively decided to stay hidden for a short while longer out of curiosity.

They watched as Merlin toed off his boots and stepped into the stream, head bowed and eyes fixated on something the knights couldn’t see. He marched about halfway across before stepping carefully over something and turning around. The men ducked lower out of sight in precaution, not wanting to be spotted just yet. With Merlin’s shadow out of the way, the knights could see something shimmering in the water and they all either sighed or rolled their eyes at their friend’s fascination.

Merlin crouched down and reached for the light, picking up something small and brilliant with his finger and his thumb. Then he returned to the bank and sat on one of the rocks, feet still in the water. He huddled over what he was holding, eyeing it with gleam.

Arthur chose this moment to reveal himself and the knights followed. The boy didn’t seem to notice them at first, distracted as he was by the trinket in his hand.

“What you got there, mate?” Gwaine asked.

Merlin looked up and blushed violently. Then, sheepishly, he held out his hand, gingerly holding a small ring between his digits.

“Nice find,” Percival muttered with an amused smile.

Merlin smiled, cheeks still flushed with color. It often made him feel foolish when someone witnessed his strange habits, ones he obtained after being magicked into a half giant, ones he couldn’t control. But the knights never belittled him and he was grateful for it.

Arthur put a hand on his shoulder (being about Merlin’s height now that he was sitting down and hunched over himself), bidding that they return home.

Merlin tugged on his boots and followed his friends away from the brook, pocketing the ring as he went.

**Pillow**

“Merlin!” Arthur shouted as he barged through his servant’s door, half dressed and irritated. He spotted the man under his lump of blankets and marched over to his bed, bare feet slapping against the floor as he did so. “You’re late!” he growled. “The meeting today is important! I told you to have me up early! We need to arrange provisions for winter!”

He whipped the sheets off of Merlin’s head and stared down at the eyes that squeezed shut against the light.

 _“Merlin,”_ Arthur said again, eyes narrowed.

Slowly, blearily, one eye drifted open and he was met with a glazed blue iris, hazy and blood shot with exhaustion.

But Arthur was having none of it. “Wake up!” he barked, tugging the blanket further off of his shoulder. Merlin groaned and his eye fluttered shut again.

Arthur shook him, causing more tired sounds of protest to rumble from the boy’s chest. Sighing in defeat when Merlin forced the quilts back up and over his head, Arthur looked up at the window. It was frosted white and only hazy images could be seen through it, but he knew that slush and snow was layering the courtyard below. The winter weather had come early this year, and that was why the meeting was so important.

With one last attempt to rouse his drowsy friend, Arthur felt for Merlin’s arm, gripped it tight, and shook it with all his might. All he received in return was a hand poking out from beneath the blankets, shoving him away with such force that the king nearly fell flat on his bum.

“So it’s one of those days, is it?” Arthur mumbled to himself, unable to hide the affectionate tone in his voice. “Fine, I’ll send Gaius up just to be sure, and maybe I’ll have someone _competent_ dress me for once!”

With that, he strode out of the room and Merlin curled in on himself, sheltering against the cold.

**Ban and Bors**

The visiting lords, Ban and Bors, had heard much about the telltale giant sorcerer that resided in Camelot. They were there on official business, of course, regarding uncooperative serfs, but could they really be blamed for being just a tad bit curious.

Once the matter of vassals was resolved, Arthur bid that they hold a feast to honor the guests in his household. After all, the two lords did contribute much to Camelot, always offering people under their command to their king when need be without hesitation. So, a party commenced and soon the dining hall was alive with cheerful nobles and boasting royalty.

The lords couldn’t help but notice that there was neither talk nor sight of the fabled giant and they wondered how they could have missed such a towering marvel, if it _was_ real in any case. When no sign of the beast could be shown, they precariously approached the king, hoping for answers.

“Milord,” Lord Bors greeted, turning to his king and bowing his head with respect.

“What is it, Lord Bors?” Arthur questioned, nodding to him and his fellow noble as they approached.

“I couldn’t help but wonder if the rumors I have heard about your house are true,” he commented, sharing a glance with Ban.

“What sort of rumors?” Arthur questioned, brow furrowed in concern.

“I hear tell that you keep a giant within your walls,” Lord Ban whispered, leaning in to tell his king. “A powerful thing with magic and wit.”

Arthur barked a laugh. “I’m not entirely sure he has any _wits_ about him, but yes, these rumors are true!”

“Then how, pray tell,” Lord Bors replied, “have we not seen a beast of such size?”

Arthur gave him a strange look, perturbed by the way the man talked of Merlin as if he were a creature instead of a man. However, the lords seemed not to notice. “He is out. I granted he take a walk in the woods this evening. He likes to stretch.”

Ban’s eyes widened. “You let him roam unattended?”

“I do,” Arthur confirmed. “He is a trusted advisor.”

“I wonder might we lay eyes upon this spectacle before our leave?” Lord Bors questioned with interest.

“Actually,” Arthur pondered, “he is meant to be serving me. He must have doddled. Maybe he found some shiny and got lost again.” He chuckled to himself at the joke the lords did not understand.

“Are you not concerned, Milord?”

“Nah,” Arthur huffed, shrugging. “He’ll find his way back before it gets too dark, I’m sure.”

“But your majesty,” Lord Ban objected, “Are giants not of a simple mind?”

Arthur paused, placing his cup back down from where it lingered in the air, halfway to his lips. “Pardon?”

“We do not mean to offend,” Ban defended. “It is just, from what we have heard of the ancient creatures, they are simpleminded, primitive, if I dare say.”

The king pursed his lips. “No,” he answered. “You are right to believe that. However, my Merlin is only half giant. He has the mind of a man and I’m afraid may not be as tall as you hope for.”

“I thought you said he had no wit about him, sire?” questioned Lord Bors.

Arthur scoffed. “I did,” he admitted. “But I assure you he is quite intelligent, if a bit foolish at times. But he was like that before he became so large.” When the lords gave him a confused look Arthur explained. “He was once a man, turned giant by a treacherous witch. This is why he is but half giant. We soiled her plans before he was able to complete my servant’s transformation, leaving him a thing in between.”

“How tall _is_ he, Milord?” asked the Lord Bors with raised eyebrows.

Arthur smiled. “See for yourself,” he said, nodding towards the entrance.

The lords, Ban and Bors, turned round to see the tall form of Merlin entering the hall. Many knights came to greet him and he smiled at their futile attempts to knock him about in play.

“Merlin!” Arthur called, a triumphant grin on his face upon seeing the shocked looks on the lords’ faces.

The boy looked across the room before carefully making his way over, avoiding the tables and stray chairs. He knelt down between the lords and his king, smiling despite the exhaustion relevant in his eyes. “Yes, sire?”

“Meet the lords, Ban and Bors,” Arthur piped, gesturing to the men sitting beside him.

Merlin turned, a smile on his face. He nodded a bow to the lords. “I am Merlin,” he said, then held out his hand.

Hesitantly, Bors took it and they shook. He ogled at how long Merlin’s hands were in comparison to his. When he moved on to Ban, he too realized that he could only grasp the giant’s fingers in his grip, whilst Merlin could have taken hold of the whole half of his arm.

Merlin shared an amused look with Arthur. It wasn’t every day that they got to baffle visitors and it was great fun indeed.

**Too Small, Too Tall**

Sighing, Merlin adjusted his position, trying to become comfortable huddled on the ground. He was used to it by now, sitting on the floor or in the dirt when the chairs were too small, but it wasn’t necessarily his seating that was causing him discomfort.

He leaned back against the wall of the small cottage, testing to see if it could hold his weight before lying back entirely. Arthur was inside, speaking to a huntsman who refused to stop hunting on reserves that he had no claim to.

In most places, Merlin could fit through, kneeling, crouching, or sometimes even crawling through the door. But this little hut in the woods was so damn small that he could barely get his shoulders through without the walls threatening to be pulled inward along with him. So, he was stuck waiting outside, bored out of his mind.

When Arthur finally exited, it was with a huff of annoyance and a slam of the door. “Merlin,” he groaned, “I’m almost tempted to have you trampled all over this shack of his! With luck, you’d break all his things and he wouldn’t even have anything to hunt _with!”_

Merlin smiled as he rose to his feet, following Arthur back to the path so that they could return home.

**Poacher**

“Maybe Gaius was wrong,” Arthur teased, smirking back at Merlin. “Maybe you _do_ have the wit of a giant!”

Merlin rolled his eyes as he stomped along after Arthur. He was tired. They’d been on this quest for days without finding anything. Could he really be to blame if he irrationally voiced the opinions of his hazed mind?

“Oh, come on, Merlin,” Arthur pestered. “You can’t pretend I’m in the wrong. I honestly doubt that this poacher turned into an _eagle_ of all things before flying away from Camelot!”

“It was just a silly thought I had,” Merlin replied, playing it off like he hadn’t considered the theory to be true in his half asleep state. “I thought it would amuse you.”

“Well,” Arthur laughed, “you were right about that!”

Merlin mumbled something about prattish royals and kicked at a rock before watching it roll off the path. They were hunting down a poacher who stole into the woods and skinned creatures they weren’t allowed to hunt. Two of the unicorns near Camelot had already gone missing (the city having strict laws on what magical creatures were peaceful and to be left alone). It was a wonder this man was even still alive with that much misfortune undoubtedly bestowed upon him. Merlin reasoned that he might have a charm or spell that left him immune to Anhora’s bad luck. Along with that, a baby phoenix (birds that were relatively harmless unless provoked) was discovered near Brechffa when it was entirely out of season for them to pass. With Merlin’s studies on magic increasing with the freedom that came from outing himself, he learned much about the fiery birds and they tend to only die of natural causes in the spring. Finding a babe in the fall, along with an arrow not far from where it teetered in ashes, they could only conclude that the poacher unwittingly tried to kill the bird.

He hid his tracks well, making up for not cleaning his messes. Now, Merlin followed Arthur’s horse, ducking beneath the thick branches of the dense wood they were in. He hoped that man didn’t have a charm because the wrath of the unicorns was all that man deserved for putting him through such discomfort.

Suddenly, Arthur stopped his horse and turned his head.

“What—“

“Shh! Merlin!” Arthur hushed, holding out his hand for silence.

Merlin stopped and listened. The woods were utterly silent around them. It was unnerving and Merlin and Arthur both knew that that could only mean one thing; something had scared away the birds.

They waited in the tense silence, anxiously anticipating the reveal of some beast or the poacher himself. Time went ever so slowly as they stood there, still but for their racing hearts.

Then, without any predecessor, there was a whistle in the air and Merlin pitched forwards like a felled tree, thumping on the ground, an arrow shaft protruding from his back.

“Merlin!” Arthur cried, flinging himself off of his horse. He ran to him, kneeling and using all of his strength to turn his friend onto his side. His heart stopped in fear for the man at the sight of blood pooling about his torso. Merlin groaned and Arthur let out a strained sigh of relief.

A twig snapped and he looked up to see a haggard man stumbling out of the bushes. The king was on his feet in an instant, sword drawn and putting himself between the poacher and his fallen friend.

The man drew a dagger, puny in comparison to Arthur’s blade. But he was quick on his feet and did indeed have charms to protect him. The king struggled valiantly against his opponent but found victory just out of reach. Just as their limbs were beginning to tremble, the poacher suddenly flew back, head knocking against the thick trunk of a sturdy tree.

Arthur turned, met with eyes fading gold and a weary expression. He went back to Merlin, checked that he was alright. He was lucky. The poacher was not as skilled as he seemed. It would take time to recover, but Merlin would prevail.

Merlin patched himself up enough that he could stand while Arthur tied the accused to his horse. He walked with an unsteady Merlin until sundown. He thought bitterly to himself that whatever protective charm he had must be wearing off. For, when he woke up, he would have hell to pay.

**Looking Up**

Tired and weary from a long day of running after Arthur, whilst also avoiding the visiting nobleman, Sir Robin, who seemed extremely interested in the value of a giant’s hide, Merlin sat down with a heavy sigh next to Percival on the steps in the courtyard.

“What troubles you, Merlin?” the knight asked, smiling up at him.

“Oh, nothing,” Merlin huffed. “Except that _brave, noble_ Sir Robin keeps eyeing me like a piece of meat!”

“He’ll be leaving tomorrow,” Percival assured.

“No,” Merlin mumbled. “He requested a longer stay, claims that his soothsayer, poor man, has seen storms in his dreams that will prevent him from returning home safely.”

“Sorry, Merlin,” Percival offered.

“I think it’s a load of hogwash!” Merlin muttered. “That old soothsayer looked offended when he said it! I bet he saw clear skies in those dreams and that Sir Robin just wants more of a chance to take me home with him in pieces!”

“Probably,” Percival said flatly. Merlin looked down at him with his brow furrowed but smiled when he saw the upward curl of his friend’s lips.

There was a long, content silence where neither of them spoke, both just watching the goings on of the townsfolk. Then, Percival looked skyward towards Merlin and said, “You’re a pain in my neck. Did you know that?”

“What?”

“Ever since that witch took you I’ve had to swivel my head about in ways I never knew it could,” the knight joked. “Never, before you, have I had to look _up_ to anyone.”

Merlin scoffed. “And never did I think that I would have to look down on you,” he agreed.

**Itty Bitty Living Space**

Merlin sat, twitching and shifting nervously. He was in Ealdor and, every time he came, it was even more awkward than the last.

His mother was distraught the first time he arrived, measuring at nine feet in height. She cried over him, even though he had long since become accustomed to his own disfigurement. It took him a while, but he eventually managed to assure her that everything was alright and that his friends supported him.

Now, the ban on magic having been lifted some time ago and Arthur accompanying him on his visit, he sat alone in his old room on a rickety stool. Hunith had wanted to run into town to collect some supplies for dinner and Arthur offered to keep her company as well as insist on paying for some of the materials.

After some debate, it was decided that Merlin was to stay behind. Cenred’s land still did not take kindly to magic, especially on the outlying villages. Even now, with a new king, the people still feared it, for Cenred used sorcerers to threaten his kingdom into being obedient.

So, Merlin sat, knees brought up to his chest and head ducked down from the low ceiling, trying to fight the urge to stand up and burst through the roof. There wasn’t much he could do and they had strictly forbidden that he go outside. The village _had_ been tormented by a witch not too long ago and the citizens were still on edge and would not take too kindly to a giant roaming about.

He tapped his foot and fidgeted his fingers, knotting them around each other in some fruitless effort to form a design with his hands.

At long last, the door flew open and Arthur came in with arms full of baskets with breads and cheeses, a motherly figure following behind him going on about how he’d spent too much.

“I’ve told you, Hunith,” he protested, “Merlin does need to eat quite a bit these days, no matter what he says on the contrary.” He shot the boy a look which told him not to try such schemes now.

They all sat round and talked merrily about the fire as the stew was brewed and the bread was toasted. Then, they ate in the loving company of each other, sharing stories of Merlin and Arthur’s adventures in Camelot and tales of villagers who kept trying to steal Hunith’s wagon.

Halfway through the meal, however, Merlin’s chair splintered and burst apart beneath him, causing him to land on his rump with a crack. They all laughed and tossed the broken bits of stool into the fire.

**Hole**

Arthur had walked in on a very peculiar sight. Upon opening the door, he was met with Merlin’s hunched figure, sitting on the floor. And, in his hands, was a small dead mouse.

“Merlin?” Arthur questioned upon seeing the melancholy expression on his servant’s face.

The boy looked to him, holding the rodent’s body close.

“What happened?” the king questioned, lost as to why he would seem so distraught over an invasive vermin.

Merlin bowed his head. “It ate through my boots,” he mumbled.

“Are you alright?” he asked, figuring that his sadness may actually be unrelated to the rat in his hands.

Merlin offered a small smiled. “I was angry,” he answered, barely audible.

“Oh,” Arthur said, realizing what he meant. Merlin’s temper was one of the hardest things for the boy to control. It was short and there were often times when he’d become upset or enraged about things that used to have little effect on him, or that he had once merely kept bottled up. But now, with the temper of a giant, he easily snapped when given the right circumstances (mostly when he was tired or had already been in a sour mood). It often left Merlin in a bad way afterwards.

“I threw a chair,” Merlin uttered, sounding apologetic. “It was hiding behind the leg.”

Arthur looked to where Merlin nodded. Against the wall was a mess of wood that might have once resembled a piece of furniture.

When Merlin had slipped on his boots that morning, he was disgusted to find that there was a large hole where his big left toe should go. He frowned and kicked the shoes off his feet, flinging them to the side. Not only were they his only boots, but it would be days before he’d have new ones because he’d have to make them especially for himself, his feet were so big. He was tired, having stayed up far later than he could have ever wanted with Gaius, researching methods of defeating Camelot’s latest magical threat. Given this, he was quickly enraged as he stomped around his chambers in search for the culprit. When he’d finally found it, he scrambled, diving for the thing like his life depended on its capture. It hid behind the leg of a chair after it once again escaped Merlin’s reach, not thinking to use his magic in his rage. He tore the chair away from the floor and whipped it away, sending it smashing into the wall with a clatter. Finally, he stomped on the mouse, crushing it enough to stop its heart.

It wasn’t the death of the rodent that made him so woeful. It was why he had killed it. His bouts of anger made him question himself, wonder if he was losing himself to the giant’s blood. He didn’t act like himself when he was enraged. It was different than when he was truly angry, more of a blind fit than any sort of real feeling. And it was always small things, things he shouldn’t be so upset about.

“Here,” Arthur said, taking out a hankie and wrapping the rat in it before tucking it in his belt for later disposal. Then, he held out his hand and helped Merlin to stand, almost falling on his face when his weight pulled on him. “Come on,” he said, taking Merlin’s hand and leading him out the door. “Let’s go find Gwen and we’ll get you a new pair of boots.”

**Cramped**

He’d been taken. A couple of travelers had entered Camelot, feigning peace, claiming that they wish to appraise the legendary giant that Arthur had in his service. He showed him to them and they assessed his worth, making comments on his size and asking curious questions about his abilities. Merlin had felt uneasy throughout all of it but Arthur assured him that this was to be expected. He was, after all, an amazing sight to those who were new to or interested in magical beings. The king had promised that he would let nothing go wrong.

He failed.

Merlin was currently locked in a crate, being carted off away from Camelot by those very travelers. It would be an easy escape, really. All he would have to do is utter a spell and open the prison he was in. But, for the life of him, he couldn’t remember the words and his magic seemed to run frantically through him with no control.

It was hot. The sun was blazing overhead and the confines of the crate made it humid inside with his sweat. His breaths were short and weighed on his chest with a crushing pressure. The air was thick and couldn’t get enough down his raw, parched throat.

Wherever skin touched skin he sweated slick, heavy sweat. His knees pressed into his chest, putting pressure on his ribs and forcing his back to stay uncomfortably straight. Every bit of him was crammed into a space far too small and he felt trapped. He _was_ trapped. Only, he _could_ get out of this. He could burst through the box and wreak havoc on his captors if he could only just _focus._

But he couldn’t. His mind was elsewhere, a mess of fear and pain and lonesome panic. He heard a scuffle outside and his weight shifted. He felt the side of the box come into contact with the ground, _hard,_ jostling him about inside.

He began to breathe quickly, each breath accompanied by a sharp gasp or high pitched wheeze. It was too hot and too small and too humid and too cramped.

The top of the crate was pried open and a rush of cooler air swept over him. He sucked in a loud, eager breath and allowed the worried hands of friends to pull him out.

He collapsed, crawling away from the prison before spreading himself out. He was tired, _so_ tired. He didn’t want to move but his chest was pumping up and down in a dangerously quick rhythm, hyperventilating. His limbs twitched and he blinked at the sunlight that doused his face.

Someone came up behind him and he flinched. Two pairs of hands wrapped around him and he wriggled in their grasp, not wanting to be touched, not wanting to sweat because of contact. Their bodies were too warm. Eventually, they managed to life him up, pushing him into a sitting position and his lungs exploded with much needed air. He took a few massive breaths before finally passing out.

**Ruckus**

“Gaius!” Merlin called out, tumbling into the small, cluttered chambers, limbs flying about.

“Ah! Merlin,” Gaius greeted. “Have a seat before you break something!”

Merlin nodded and sat on a stool by the fire.

“How are you feeling?” he prompted, hobbling over to his surrogate son.

“Fine,” Merlin huffed. It was the first day of the month and it was customary that he visit the doctoring old man for a checkup. Every now and then his back would ache or his breathing would falter and he would be prescribed a remedy for it.

The old man bustled about him, listening to his breathing and prodding him, asking him whether or not it hurt. He gave him the monthly potion that strengthens his bones and offered that he stay for lunch. Merlin giddily agreed, missing the days when he used to live so close to his mentor.

After eating and enjoying each other’s company, Gaius asked Merlin if her could put some books and supplies away for him. There were a few things that belonged on the bookshelf in the loft and he couldn’t quite persuade his old bones to carry him up there. So he’d had a small pile put aside for a later day when he felt up to it. But Merlin was here now and tall enough to not even need the ladder, capable of reaching up without aid. Merlin agreed and set to filing away the tomes.

It was an easy, simple task. He didn’t even need a stepping block. He could slide the books through the railing and push them into place. All went well. That is, until the last book.

It belonged on the top shelf and its place was _just_ out of reach. He didn’t want Gaius to have to trouble with it later but he couldn’t use the latter (and even if he could, he doubted the thin support of the loft would hold him). So, he stood on his tiptoes and stretched his arm as far as it would go. He could just barely touch the edge of the shelf with the side of the book and, with a quick, jerking shove, he tossed it into place perfectly.

But then he let his heels drop back down to the floor and the ground shook, knocking a few nearby vials off of the table.

Gaius made a noise of alarm and Merlin mumbled about apologies and how he would clean it up, no problem. He bent over and began hastily scooping up shards of broken glass. Due to his nervous rush, he didn’t hear Gaius’s warnings and his fingers were already wet with whatever chemicals had been spilled.

Then his hands started to sting.

“Ah!” he winced, dropping the shards and stumbling backwards. His rump bumped into the mantel and he quickly stumbled forwards, elbowing a (thankfully unlit) torch from the wall before bumping his head against the ceiling beneath the loft. The force of it knocked him to the ground and he brought a few books down with him in the fall.

The place was a mess of potions, glass, and papers, a large, blushing fool sitting in the middle of it.

Gaius scurried over to him, sporting his notorious eyebrow, and fumbled with his hands, trying to get a look at Merlin’s burn. All the while he rambled on in apologies and promises to clean the mess up.

The old man sighed and stepped back, surveying the poor boy before him. “Merlin,” he said, cutting off his babbling. He gave him a warm smile. “Your hand should be fine as long as you don’t irritate it,” he said. “Now get out of here before you break something else!” He chuckled at the boy’s wide eyes.

“I’m sorry, Gaius, I didn’t—“

The physician put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not your fault, my boy.”

Merlin grinned back at him, if still feeling incredibly guilty for it all.

“No go on!” Gaius ushered. “Or else you’ll bring the walls down next!”

**Furious**

He heard a crash and a thump and reluctantly was drawn out of bed by it. Merlin had just sent him to sleep not a few moments ago and now there was a clatter roaring from his room. He rolled his eyes as he slugged out the door and made the short pace to his servant’s room. Upon opening the door, he was appalled.

A red faced, shaking Merlin was running about the room, turning things over and destroying everything in his wake. His table was upturned and his chairs were in varying positions, ranging from toppled against the wall to sitting dangerously close to the fire. The covers of his bed were strewn all over the place and his pillows had been unstuffed, a pile of down accumulating in the corner. The rug by the fire was nowhere to be found and his wardrobe had been emptied.

Just as Arthur collected himself, the boy stuck his head back into said cabinet, grumbling and yelling as he did only when he was on a giant’s rampage.

This could not be good.

“Merlin!” Arthur called, voice high pitched and eyes wide.

The boy’s head popped out of the wardrobe and he looked at Arthur with fiery eyes.

 _“What_ is going on?” Arthur asked, striding further into the room, ogling the catastrophe around him.

“Where is it?” Merlin growled, face set in anger.

“Where’s what?”

“My chest!”

Arthur narrowed his eyes. “It’s right there, you idiot,” he said, trying to joke and calm Merlin down. He prodded him in the torso and smiled. Usually something like this would bring Merlin out of a tantrum, but it seemed that, this time, he was too far gone.

Instead of falling back into normality, being released from the giant’s rage and settling back into himself, he simply took a sharp intake through the nose as his eyes glared murderously down at his king. Then, he turned and stormed off, rummaging through the shelves and cabinets on the far wall.

After a few moments of contemplating the situation, Arthur followed him and said, “What chest, Merlin?”

 _“My_ chest!” he spat, whirling around and towering over Arthur.

“What was in it?” he asked, trying to remain calm.

“My shinies!” Merlin rumbled, pushing Arthur aside a bit too hard, causing him to stumble and fall. His eyes went wide as he realized why the boy was so angry. He, the knights, and Gwen had taken to calling the sparkling trinkets Merlin collected _shinies_ as a joke _._ He was always collecting them and, although he never took them out except to add more to the stock, he was very protective over them.

Merlin sat down next to his bed with a thud and lifted the covers from where they draped off the mattress and onto the floor. He pointed a stiff finger underneath and said accusingly, “They’re not there.”

Merlin was never very articulate when he was in one of his fits, often resorting to small words and short sentences, the giant’s blood getting the best of him.

Arthur nodded from where he sat across the room. Then, he got up and brushed himself off. “I’ll have people on the lookout for it, Merlin,” he assured, righting a nearby chair. “It could be that you’ve just misplaced it.”

“I _didn’t.”_

“Then we will find the man responsible,” Arthur amended, hoping not to further irritate an unstable giant.

Merlin gave him a nod but still seemed to brood over his missing things.

“But,” Arthur continued, placing a hand up on Merlin’s shoulder, “for now, you should get some rest. Perhaps some sleep with help you recall where you last saw it.”

Merlin shifted where he sat and grabbed Arthur’s arm, tearing it from his shoulder and pulling him until he was forced to get down on all fours. Being thrown onto the ground, Arthur was met with the under of Merlin’s bed. “It was there,” he affirmed aggressively.

“Alright,” Arthur said, pretending to look around underneath before sitting back on his knees. “I believe you. You should still get some sleep, though. It’s been a long day.” Talking to Merlin when he was like this was like speaking to a stubborn child.

The boy pouted and glanced around the room with a heated stare, as if the perpetrator with his chest could have appeared whilst his back was turned.

“Look at me,” Arthur said, tapping Merlin’s arm.

Reluctantly, he tore his eyes away from his search.

“We’ll find it. I promise.”

Brow furrowed, Merlin nodded.

“Now get into bed,” Arthur piped. “We can’t look for your treasures on no sleep, can we?”

“No,” he mumbled as he climbed into the mess of blankets beside him.

Arthur watched as Merlin fell asleep. He hoped that, when he woke, he might be relieved of his anger. However, as the moments passed, the crease in the giant’s brow did not fade. It was clear that Merlin would remain this way until the situation was fixed. So, with a weighted sigh, he turned and left for Gaius’s chambers.

In the early morning, Gaius followed his king to the warlock’s room where he still slumbered.

“By the gods!” Gaius rasped in a quiet exclamation when he saw the state of the place.

“It’s really upset him Gaius,” Arthur explained, striding into the room. “I don’t think he’ll go back to normal until we find it.”

“Did he say where he last saw it?”

“Under his bed, where it’s kept.”

“Perhaps he’s mistaken.”

“He refuses to believe that he could have misplaced it.”

“Then we must find it before his anger reaches its peak!” Gaius concluded, grimacing at the thought of Merlin wrecking giant, magical havoc on the city.

“I’ll ask the knights,” Arthur said, “and Gwen. You stay here and try to keep him calm.”

“Me?” Gaius gaped.

“Yes,” the king confirmed. “We can’t have him roaming the castle in this state. He tousled me around last night! I can only _imagine_ what he’d do whilst trying to interrogate everyone with a wit the size of a pinhead!”

“Indeed,” Gaius agreed.

“You what?” Arthur questioned quite loudly at the training grounds later that day.

“It was just a bit of a joke,” Gwaine excused.

“Yeah,” Arthur said sarcastically, “a joke that’s got Merlin stomping around in a fit of rage!”

“I didn’t think he’d be _that_ upset about it!”

“He can’t help it, Gwaine!” Arthur hollered for all to hear. “He’s not himself when he falls into these moods! It isn’t normal anger! You’ve seen him!”

“He always comes around after a bit,” Gwaine supplied.

“Yes,” Arthur agreed, “but, not only have you upset him, but you’ve triggered him! Both the anger and the collecting of shinies is an effect of the giant’s blood! He’s been angry for _hours,_ Gwaine! It’s lasting far longer than it usually does and it’s because of this horrible combination!”

“Alright, I get it,” the knight huffed, flipping his hair out of his face.

There was a short silence which Arthur used to catch his breath and compose himself.

“Where is Merlin now?” Percival asked.

“Gaius is watching him,” Arthur answered. “You should have seen him. His room was a catastrophe.”

“What do we do then?” Gwaine questioned.

“Well, first we need to get that chest back,” Arthur supplied. “Where did you hide it?”

For a moment, a look of fear crossed over Gwaine’s face, but he quickly hid it. “It’s, uh . . .”

_“Gwaine.”_

“I put it in Leon’s saddlebag actually . . .”

“What?” Arthur screamed.

“Well,” Gwaine explained, “I was a bit drunk and . . . well, I thought it would be a good laugh if he missed it for a few days . . . It sounded brilliant at the time.”

Arthur let out an utterly agitated sigh. “Well _you’ll_ be the one riding after him. We need to stay here and make sure Merlin doesn’t get into any more trouble.”

As it turned out, it was too late for that.

Being the old man that he was, Gaius was unable to keep Merlin back and he refused to take a sleeping draught and there was no way that he could force it down the throat of a man twice his size. So, Merlin got out and was storming down the halls when Arthur and the knights were almost stomped on by him.

“Merlin!” Arthur cried, picking up his pace to follow after the lad.

Merlin said nothing as he continued to march about the halls, looking left and right as if his chest of goodies would be hidden around each corner. Any people they passed in the corridors eyed him fearfully for he looked as if he were ready to crush any passersby.

“He’s worse than I thought,” Percival commented to himself as he hurried after them, two other knights on his heel.

After trying and failing to get the boy’s attention, Arthur relied on his last resort. “Merlin, we’ve found it!”

Immediately, Merlin spun around, knocking a tapestry off the wall as he did so. “Where?”

“It’ll be a few hours, but it’s on its way.”

“Where is it?”

“Gwaine’s gone to fetch it,” Arthur said. “Leon has it with him.”

“Leon!” Merlin shrieked.

“He didn’t take it, Merlin!” Arthur fussed, trying futilely to stop Merlin from going after him. “It was a mistake!”

“I want it!”

“And you’ll have it,” Arthur assured, “but not unless you go back to your rooms.”

Merlin stopped and looked down at Arthur where he had been backing away in caution. “Why?”

“Well,” Arthur stammered, not knowing what to say next, “Gwaine is bringing it there! So, if you are anywhere else when he finds it, you will miss it and it will be gone again!”

Merlin’s eyes went wide and he mumbled some agreement before letting the king lead him back to his chambers where they met a worried Gaius and a trashed room.

Gwaine rode hard and fast through the woods on Camelot’s strongest steed, eager to catch up to Leon. He’d left the day before with a few knights to investigate a sighting of bandits. Luckily, he was able to catch the man and, after a rushed explanation and an awkward exchange, was racing back to the city in no time.

He dashed through the halls, panting and sweating with the need to move forwards, chest clutched under his arm. He burst through the doors without thinking and fell into an exhausted heap on the floor, arm held out and chest in hand.

Merlin looked up from where he was struggling to check the fireplace again, against Arthur’s will, and his eyes were wide as saucers.

“Shiny!” he hollered, bounding across the room and tearing the treasures’ containment from Gwaine’s grubby fingers. He fell to the floor with a rumbled that cause the missing rug to fall from somewhere on the ceiling and land on Gwaine’s head. He sat with his legs crossed as he flung open the lid. Everything was there and in place.

He sighed with relief and then fussed to dig a loose button from his pocket before adding it to the pile. Then he closed the box and held it tightly to his chest, eyes closed in earnest affection.

He spent the rest of the day sitting on the floor in front of his bed, guarding his precious treasures.

The next day Merlin’s face was red again but for a different reason. His memory of the last two days was not exact but he knew what he had done and it embarrassed him immensely. Whenever anyone mentioned the events that had conspired, his cheeks burned with the heat of humility. However, Arthur assured him that he would never have to experience such massive embarrassment again, for Gwaine would _most definitely_ learn his lesson.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Erm, unfortunately there isn't an encyclopedia of health effect when going through magical transformations so . . . all of the medical mentions is a bunch of hogwash that I pulled out of a hat. I have no idea if that whole breaking the ribs thing would have worked but this fic doesn't make any sense anyways so . . .


End file.
